TargetRed
by Shergar
Summary: What was going through Steve's mind after he shot Schilling?


Target: Red.

**Steve's POV**

I felt sick.

The wind blew my hair all over my face and I felt cold; icy cold. It wasn't the wind that caused me to feel cold, though. It was what I had just been forced to do. Behind me, I heard Mike climbing the final ladder into the bell tower. When we had reached the top of all those stairs, I was winded, but Mike seemed to be okay. His legs are longer than mine; that helps when you're running up stairs. Seems that he was more winded than he let on though, as I had already climbed the ladder and shot Schilling.

I really thought I was going to throw up at that point. I couldn't tear my eyes from the dead man. I was rocking backwards and forwards, trying to get warm, even though I knew it would be hours at best before I felt warm again. Mike's hand briefly touched my shoulder and I glanced at him before my gaze was dragged back to the corpse. "I had no choice," I croaked.

"Don't worry about it," Mike replied. "He died years ago."

Don't worry. Those words are pretty useless in calming me down. Besides, I'm not exactly worried about this. There was no question that I had to do what I did. There probably won't be an internal investigation and even if there is, that extraordinary gun lying in Schilling's hands will clear me. No, it's my own conscience that won't let me rest. I know that I'll second guess myself, trying to figure out another way that I could have stopped Schilling without killing him.

My view of the body was suddenly blocked as Mike stepped between it and me. I blinked and focused on his face and saw that he was worried about me. Mike's a great worrier. That's what makes him a great lieutenant and a great father. "Hey, buddy boy, how're you doing?" he asked.

"I'm all right, Mike," I assured him.

"You didn't have any other choice," Mike told me sternly. "Even you couldn't have jumped from that ladder and stopped him from shooting. You couldn't have taken the risk of shooting to injure only. You did what you had to do." His words might have been stern, but the hand on my shoulder was gentle as it squeezed in reassurance.

I knew he was right, but that didn't mean I had to like it. I had met the odd cop in my short career who boasted about the number of criminals they had killed and I had never understood how they could do that. Schilling might have had serious mental problems, but he was a human being nonetheless. Killing never came easily; I hoped it never would.

"You're cold," Mike said, and took off his own coat to wrap around my shoulders. The wind was pretty blowy up there and I saw him shiver as he stood up.

"I'm okay," I protested, but he shook his head as I tried to give the coat back.

"You keep it for the moment," he ordered and placed his hand on my shoulder as uniformed officers began to appear through the trap door into the bell tower.

Words ebbed and flowed all around and I found it surprisingly difficult to follow everything that was said, but it seems that I had shot Schilling just in time. His aim was knocked and the only thing damaged was a parked car. The Chinese trade delegate had been safely whisked to the Trade Centre and it seemed I was the hero of the hour.

Let me tell you, I didn't feel much like a hero. Mike reclaimed his coat before we climbed down and I was glad that he insisted on going first and that his hand was there to guide me down the last few rungs. My legs were trembling and while I no longer had the urge to throw up, I was now ready to curl up in a corner and sleep. A rush of adrenaline does that to you. I wondered that Mike still had as much energy, but he kept a hand on my elbow all the way down those endless stairs and out to the car.

By the time we got back to the station, I was a bit more with it and a good thing it was, too. I had to answer loads of questions, over and over, but Mike made sure I got some coffee and a donut to boost my blood sugar. I guess it would have been pretty embarrassing if I'd passed out at the captain's feet.

I felt a lot better after I had been assured that there wouldn't be any charges against me for killing Schilling. Mike grinned at me. "Feel up to one more thing?" he asked me.

"What?" I answered, because I know Mike Stone. He can come up with some doozy ideas if you aren't careful.

"Arresting the General?" he enquired and I knew that there was one thing I was not going to miss and that was it.

"You bet!" I answered. I wanted to see his face when he learned that his plans had been thwarted. I didn't want to gloat, but there was no denying the satisfaction I felt in being the person who had derailed his plans. "Let's go!"

**Mike's POV**

I knew Steve would never admit how bad he was feeling, but he couldn't hide his misery. After we arrested the General and got him booked, I took Steve home to my house. Jeannie had arrived home for the weekend that morning and I'd been going to surprise Steve with a home cooked meal anyway. And if anyone could take Steve's mind off his misery, it was Jeannie.

He's a damned fine cop, my partner and I was going to make sure that someone gave him a commendation for what he did that day, whether he liked it or not! I don't think he realised exactly how many lives he had potentially saved. Not just the delegate, but all the soldiers that might have had to go to war if China had reacted badly to an assassination.

I think I might wait and tell him that bit later, when he's feeling more like himself. Or maybe I'll let someone else tell him when he collects that commendation!

The End


End file.
